Someotherthingstodowithchildrenthisweekend. . .Ingredients80gbutterorghee1tbspoliveoil1.5kgonions,thinlyslicedSeasaltandblackpepper100mldrysherry1½litresbeefstock(homemadeoragoodqualityshopbought)1bayleaf1tbspDijonmustard1loafrusticsourdoughbread,thicklysliced450ggruyérecheese,grated

MethodMeltthebutterandoliveoilinalargepanoveramediumhighheat.Addtheonionsandcook,stirringregularlyuntiltheybegintosoften.Lowertheheatandcookuntiltheonionsareverysweetandgoldenbrown.Youwill

needtostirthemregularlyanditcantake1-2hours.Addatbspofwateriftheybegintosticktoomuch.

Seasonwithsaltandpepper.Addthesherryandbringtoasimmer,scrapinganybrownbitsasyoustir.Leavetosimmerforaminutebeforeaddingthebayleafandstock.Leavetosimmerfor20minutes.Tasteforseasoning.

Meanwhile,grillthethicklyslicedbreadononeside.ButtertheuntoastedsideandspreadthinlywithalittleDijonmustard.Sprinklethegratedcheeseontopofthetoasts.

Layfouroven-proofbowlsontoacookingtray.Ladlethesoupintothebowlsthenplacethecheeseladentoastsontop.Placeunderthegrilluntilthecheeseismeltedandgolden.Servewhilststillhotandbubbling.

Icould boast all day about how mydaughters are the kind of people whoadore going to museums and clamourto attend scientific, culturally rich,

mind-expanding exhibitions. I could butthen I’d be lying through my clenched and– being honest – slightly disappointed teeth.

I can’t even argue with my daughter’srationale. They spend all week beingeducated in the conventional sense atschool so the last thing they want to do atthe weekend is “learn even MORE stuff.”

Exposing them last year to Malala’scampaign for the global education of girlsimproved their attitude to school-going ingeneral, but persuading them of the valueof learning outside of school hoursremains a painful battle.

Oh, I have it good parentally speakingin other ways. I’ve never had to sneakvegetables into their dinners, for onething. They may be allergic to self-improvement but they are the least fussy,most adventurous kids I know when itcomes to their food. One of them mysteri-ously likes grilled pink grapefruit forbreakfast and the other one has a fondnessfor German cheeses with unpronouncea-ble names.

But I find myself having to sneakeducation into our weekend activities theway some parents have to slyly incorpo-rate invisible to the naked eye pieces ofcarrot into a picky-eater’s bolognaisesauce.

So that’s why I didn’t tell them inadvance we were going to Cool Planet onthe grounds of Powerscourt House in CoWicklow. The “cool” part was, you know,cool, but I knew the word “planet” wouldset their anti-educational antennaetwitching. To avoid being berated for theentire car journey, I refused to say wherewe were going only telling them it was a“surprise”.

If I had a euro for every time they said“Mum, if it’s an educational surprise we’reNOT going to do it” I could have paidsomebody else to listen to them bang on(and on).

So I am only thrilled and delighted toreport that this Cool Planet thing is thebest education-by-stealth experiencewe’ve ever had. I’d go as far as to say it wasthe best family outing we’ve ever been on.(And for context, we once went to a partythrown by Keogh’s crisps where therewere wheelbarrows full of crisps as far asthe eye could see.)

To explain: Cool Planet is the world’sfirst permanent visitor centre dedicated toclimate change. I know that sounds like itcould be tedious and worthy and boringbut – and this is the incredible part – itturns out to be fun and engaging andinspiring. Donald Trump would hate it,which is a bonus.

EntrancedI don’t want to say too much because I’dlike everyone to experience Cool Planetfor themselves, but from the moment wereceived our wristbands – which allowedus to calculate our carbon footprint – wewere all entranced. The technology usedto create the exhibit is stunning, thevisuals and interactivity so clever, thought-ful, engaging and – this was a surprise –entertaining.

We entered as a family that had ourheads a bit in the sand climate-changewise and walked out as “agents for

change” full of chat about what we couldall do to make a difference. We had“saved” hundreds of trees during theone-hour Cool Planet experience andafterwards on a long walk through thegorgeous Powerscourt gardens, lookingup at the elegant tree specimens toweringabove us, the dots were well and trulyjoined. (We’ll gloss quickly over the factthat arriving home after our grand dayout, we realised we’d left all the lights on.)

So tell your friends. Tell your children’sschools. Make one of your outings over theChristmas holidays a Cool Planet outing.It somehow manages to motivate you tomake changes that can benefit all of uswithout being one bit preachy or overtly(whisper it) educational.

Apparently, this innovative, importantIrish creation which has been open sinceMarch is already in demand in other partsof the world.

I’m not a bit surprised. It really is verycool.Formore seecoolplanetexperience.

org .Ticketscost¤9foradultsand¤7forchildren

I’ve been thinking about the deadrecently, and dreaming about themtoo. In the dreams, I’m usuallyyounger and terribly industrious,

chasing faceless toddlers across eight-lanehighways or attempting to cater forhundreds of people in tuxedos with awatermelon and a packet of noodles –while the dead, whom I know are presentand patiently waiting for me, remain just

beyond my reach, having convivialconversations in deckchairs.

We all have these kinds of dreams, don’twe (don’t we?), complicated narrativesspiced with anxiety and loss, dreams thathang around the psyche until the morningcaffeine finally kicks in.

Anyway, I don’t need Mystic Madge tointerpret my night-time journeying. It isclear to me that no matter how busy we

convince ourselves we are, no matter howdensely we pack the hours, grief can’t beignored. In my experience, it is a feistylittle animal that does not like to be leftoutside the back door while the houseparty is in full swing. Imperious, unre-strained and astonishingly demanding,grief, like a high-maintenance lover, isliable to cause a scene just when you’retrying to keep the head down and get onwith the complicated enough business ofliving.

When my mother died, 15 months ago,I went to college and did a one-yearmaster’s course, and since then I’ve beenlying around under the cranky engine of abook I’m trying to write, fiddling aroundwith the pistons. I got the results of mymaster’s just the other day and turnedaround to tell her how I’d done, andrealised that she wasn’t there.

GhoststoriesAs it happens, my mother’s ashes are ina pot of roses in my backyard. She’scurrently sprouting some resilient littleyellow buds, hardy and optimistic shootsthat seem to defy winter, so I went outsideand told the roses about my mastersinstead.

I’m not a religious person. I tolerate

ghost stories, I walk under ladders, I don’tsee angels or auras, and I don’t expect tobe sitting around shooting the breeze withthe ancestors, a paper plate of potatosalad on my knee, on judgment day. And,as the man on the radio advert says, Ifigure that when I’m gone, I’m definitelygone. And yet recently I find myselftalking to the dead. Not all the time;occasionally, though, I ask the dead forthings. Not for a new winter coat, or ahybrid car, or a new boiler; no, I ask thedead for other things. I ask the dead tohelp the living.

BereavementAnyway, I mention all this because Irealise that I’ve been finding it easier totalk to the dead rather than about thedead, and I wanted to address that.

I met an old friend recently, a warm andstraightforward person whose feelingsabout bereavement chimed with my own.She is my age, a parent and a worker, and,as with my own experience of losing asecond parent, her father’s passing wasnot unexpected. There was simply hisinexorable deterioration, followed by anordinary, quotidian death.

“I feel,” she told me, looking into hercoffee cup, “as if I shouldn’t talk about my

father any more. I feel as if I’m tryingpeople’s patience. He died more than ayear ago and yet I still think about himevery day. I almost feel his loss more now.

“I’ve done everything I was supposed todo: I organised his funeral, I sorted out hispossessions, I was decisive and reliableand strong. I did what was expected of me,and now I want him to come back and tellme that I did it well, that I passed the test.Now I want him to come home.”

On the day that we were preparing tobury my mother’s ashes in two plant pots(my sister Laura has the other one), arobin hopped right into my kitchen whilemy siblings and I were tootling aroundmaking lunch and looking for a trowel.The robin perched on the back of a veryold nursing chair that used to belong to mygrandmother. Utterly calm, it lookedaround the kitchen, its head cocked to oneside as if listening to a song we couldn’tquite hear, before hopping out again.

It’s true, I know, that robins are curiousbirds, and also that there was plenty goingon that day to attract its attention. I’msure I’ve imbued the robin and the rosewith far too much significance, but theyare part of my story, and our storiesmatter I think, regardless of how oftenthey are told.

HilaryFannin

Arewe thereyet?

Róisín Ingle

FrenchonionsoupServes4

LillyHiggins

It is clear tome thatnomatterhowbusyweconvinceourselvesweare,nomatterhowdenselywepack thehours,grief can’t be ignored‘‘

Visit to Cool Planet was the best and by far the coolest family activity we’ve ever experienced

■Children taking part in the CoolPlanet Experience at PowerscourtHouse and Gardens, CoWicklow

TheLateLateToyShowIbumpedintoTubstheothernightattheAnPostBookAwardsanddespiteallmytactics–annoyinghigh-pitchedpleadingvoice,pokinghimintheribswithmycopyofMilkmanbyBookerwinnerAnnaBurns–Icouldn’tgethimtotellmethethemeofthisyear’sToyShowwhichisontonightonRTÉ1at9.35pm.Hewassuckingonthroatlozeng-es,however,anddidrevealhewasnervousaboutsingingasongduringtheopeningscenes.(Isincefoundoutviaapressreleasethatit’sTheGreatestShowmanwhichisperfect.) Sodigoutyourbestblankets, lightthefireandmakeasmallEverestofsnacksonthecoffeetable.It’sToyShowtime!(Ifforsomestrangereasonyouarenot watching

it,checkTwitterforthefinestexamplesofIrishsocialmediabanteryou’ll findallyear.)

TheMovingCribThisisupandrunningnowatStMartinApostolateinParnellSquare,Dublin,whichmeansit’sofficiallyChristmas.IrememberbeingkindofscaredbythisplaceasakidbutthenIwasalwaysabitcontrary.

Thecrib,ofcourse,ismuchmorethanacrib,andtellsloadsofBiblestoriesincludingNoah’sArkandAdamand EvethroughuniquelymesmerisingtableauxofGerman-madefigures.Amazingly,thecribhasbeengoingfor62years.Ifyouhaven’tbeen,makethistheyearyouvisitthisDublininstitution

which,evenafteralltheseyears, isstill freetovisit.Formoreseestmartin.ie/crib/

Andonefornextweek.. .SecretSantaLet’sbehonest,abarofchocolateinthepostbeatsalotofpresentsyouarelikelytogiveandreceivethisChristmas,soCadburyIrelandaretobecommendedfortheirlatestYule-themedwheeze.TheyhaveaSecretSantaMovementpop-upshoponSouthWilliamStreetinDublinwhereyoucanavailoftheirspecialSecretSantaPostalServicetosendabarofDairyMilkanonymouslyorwithanotebearingyournametoafriendorloved

oneanywhereinthecountry.Theideaistoencouragethenotionofgiving“justbe-cause”.Aswellasthechocolateposting,theexperienceincludesbuildingacustomselectionbox,becomingareallifeSecretSantaandenjoyingadelicioushotchocolatewhilelisteningtoliveChristmasclassics.EntryisfreebuttherewillbefundraisinginaidofmentalhealthcharityAware.Runsat57SouthWilliamStreetfromTuesday4thtoSaturday8thDecember.Formoreseecadbury.ie/secretsantaPSIfyoucan’tgettotheDublinpop-up,theSecretSantaPostalVanwillbetravellingaroundthecountrythroughoutDecember,makingstopsinSligo,Limerick,KilkennyandLouth.

Perfectwaytosneaksomeeducationintothekids’diet

Soup season is here, and there’snothing nicer than a warm bowl ofbroth – especially at lunchtime.There’s the smooth option, where Iusually add any and all the vegeta-bles in the fridge, along with a goodstock and a splash of cream, thenblitz till velvety.

I find this is the best way toincrease my own children’s intake ofvegetables. Or the meal-in-a-bowlsoup where there is both eating anddrinking. Minestrone or Thaichicken noodle soups are greatexamples of this. It’s more likedinner with soup on top.

A real way to make a meal out ofsoup is to add bread. Lately I’mmaking croutons in the frying pan.Just tear or cube day-old bread intobitesize pieces and drizzle with oliveoil, crunchy sea salt and finelychopped rosemary. Fry low and slowuntil the bread is golden and deli-cious. Make while soup is simmeringand then just scatter them over.They’re even nicer with a dusting ofParmesan cheese and add greattexture to salads.

One of my favouritebread-and-soup combinations is the

slice of thickly cut bread smotheredwith melted cheese that sits atopFrench onion soup. There really isnothing more divine in this coldweather than a bowl of rich, restora-tive broth. All the better for youwhen it’s made with onions and agood beef stock. The bread that sitsin the bowl is half soaked in nourish-ing soup and the top half is coveredin crunchy savoury cheese. Such awinning combination.

I love to add a very thin layer ofDijon mustard to the bread justbefore I pile on the cheese. Gruyèreis best and most traditional as itmelts so well; its smooth nuttinesspairs well with sweet, slow-cookedonion.

There are a few rules when itcomes to making really good Frenchonion soup. The onions need to bethinly sliced. I do this in the foodprocessor to save my tears and forspeed. You need plenty of onions,butter and time. The butter is theperfect fat for cooking the onion as itbrowns and encourages a rich sweetnutty flavour to develop. Cookedlow, the onions become meltinglysoft and produce amazing flavour.

Soup season is here again –time to bring on the broth

When I’m gone, I’m gone,yet I still talk to the dead

THE IRISH TIMESFriday, November 30, 2018 17

When it comes to summer sea-son, occasion-wear dresses au-tomatically lean towardsone-shoulder numbers, back-

less styles and strapless, which poses thequestion: what do you wear underneath?

Opting for the wrong foundation canrender a gorgeous dress unflattering andfrumpy.

But the perfect underpinnings will workwonders for your silhouette, smooth outlumps and bumps and in turn, boost yourconfidence.

Often coming with a restrictive reputa-tion, shapewear has evolved to be function-al while offering control without sacrific-ing comfort.

Moving past standard Spanx to body-suits, waist cinchers, slips and under-

wear, it offers solutions for any tricky sil-houettes.

Here’s a quick fix guide to yourshapewear essentials for all outfit even-tualities:

Ifyou’regoing…straplessoroff-the-shoulderIf you want support and control skipthe strapless bra and opt for a strap-less slip or bodysuit. There are manyoptions that will mimic the necklineof your dress, so it’s easily concealed.

Ifyou’regoing...backlessIf you’re smaller chested you mightbe able to go without a bra, but a lotof us need back-up. Stick-on styleswill just have you wondering if you’rebra has gone south, so opt for a multi-

way bra that works for any type ofplunging back.

Ifyou’regoing...structuredWhen your silhouette is form-fitting, prop-

er undergarments are essen-tial. A full-slip or bodysuitwith built-in bra will ensure

no lines or creases, for an extrasmooth effect.

Ifyou’regoing...withlighterfabrics

Feather-light fabrics that are breezyand cool to wear come to the fore in the

summer. It’s clever to have some form ofshapewear to ensure no obvious VPL. Abodysuit from Heist is one of the priceritems, but for good reason. Offering lightsupport for everyday wear, it creates a sub-tle and seamless layer.

Ifyou’rewearing...athin-strapdressSlip dresses with superthin spaghettistraps are one of the season’s biggesttrends, but instead of opting for a straplessbra, choose a bra that has straps prettyenough to be on show.

Ifyou’regoing...forplungingDon’t be scared of lower-cut necklines –a plunging bodysuit or convertible brawill allow you to take the plunge with-out foregoing support.

There are shapewear essentials for all outfits

LillyHiggins

‘Isuppose I’m lonely,” she said. “Yes,that’s the word. I’m lonely and Inever thought I would be. I never

thought I’d feel so alone.”We were sitting at an outside table in a

cafe in the park. The sun had made anappearance after a monsoon week, and wehad arranged to meet, a friend and I, for along-planned walk.

“I didn’t know you were feeling lonely,”I said.

“Nobody knows. You can’t tell by

looking at me. I’m not talking to the trees.I haven’t started pushing my life aroundthe streets in a supermarket trolley,swigging fortified sherry from the bottle.”

“I didn’t think wandering the streetsnecking bottles of sherry was a particularsignifier of loneliness.”

“If you admit to being lonely, peoplethink there’s something wrong with you.They back off, they think it’s catching.”

There were two rooks eyeing up ourraspberry scones from their perch on top

of the ornamental gate beyond our table.Another bird on the ledge of the tall pillarwas frantically shredding a napkin,searching the ribboned tissue forcrumbs.

At other tables talkative, efficientyoung mothers stirred their chai teas orspooned froth from foamy coffees intotheir busy mouths. One of the rooks, ormaybe they were crows, swooped downand swiped a crust from a just-vacatedtable.

“I don’t know who I am any more. Idon’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

“Maybe you should look for work.”“What work? Who’d want me? What

can I do?”“Loads of things.”“Yeah?”“Yeah. You brought up a family. Seems

like you made a good job of it.”“And what does that qualify you for?

When it’s over, when they’re gone, whenyou don’t have to be somewhere at fouro’clock, or six o’clock, or midnight? Whenit doesn’t matter if you don’t make thedinner or put on a wash? When there’snobody there to feed or encourage orcollect or console, what then?”

“There is need everywhere,” I an-swered. “Everywhere.”

I looked across at the rook, perched

now on the back of a red chair. It lookedstraight back at me, head cocked, eyessteely-blue. Its arachnid-like talons were avarnished black. It clung to its position onthe chair back until we stood and aban-doned our table. I turned to watch it dartover and poke around our plates forspoils.

We walked then through the witheredrose garden, where the names of the buds,clearly legible, were displayed on plaqueson the drying earth.

“Sexy Rexy?” I asked my friend. “Is thatreally the name of a rose? It sounds like anightclub in Fuengirola.”

“Sexy Rexy is a very good bloomer.Fragrant. Chop it down and it keepscoming back.”

“Cool.”

Spoiledandprivileged“I know I sound spoiled and privileged,”she continued. “I know I was lucky to beable to stay at home with my childrenwhile they were growing up. It’s not thatunusual, not really, and I was happy to doit, and the years rolled on, and now . . . Idon’t know. I have no confidence inmyself. I know I sound like a cliche. But it’sso quiet. Everything feels so silent.”

We walked past a bed of slumberingIngrid Bergmans and then another of

dormant Lili Marlenes.“They should name roses after ordinary

women,” I suggested. “Ordinary womenand their lives.”

“I’d be planted in a bed of always-a-good-girl-did-what-she-thought-was-required-and-now-look-at-her.”

“Do you have any money?” I asked.“Not really.”“Shame. You could traverse the world

by rail.”“I’d be scared. That’s the problem. I’m

suddenly afraid of my own shadow, andsuddenly ridiculously alone.”

“I think,” I ventured cautiously, unsureif I was helping or hindering, “I think thisis a phase. I think that the ground isswelling and pushing around you and thatyou’re cultivating some other part ofyourself. I think you’ve got a whole newlife ahead of you.”

We circumnavigated the rose beds insilence for a while.

“Okay, but don’t tell me I’m a perenni-al,” she said.

“I promise.”“And don’t tell me to take up a sport.

Especially golf.”“I seriously wouldn’t dream of it.”We walked. Under our feet, the spring-

time earth rang with the whisper ofrenewal.

HilaryFannin

■Clockwise from top left: Bras fromMarks&Spencer, ¤30 and Fashion Forms,¤30; Spanx slip, ¤68; Heist bodysuit, ¤118; Commando bodyslip , ¤120.

CrispyParmesancauliflowerServes4

Ingredients1cauliflower100gbutter,melted70gbreadcrumbs1tspsmokedsweetpaprika50gfinelygratedParmesan2ripeavocadosJuiceof1lime½tsp-1tspfinelychoppedjalapeños2tbsfinelychoppedcoriander

ToserveWarmflourorcorntortillas

Method1.Preheattheovento180degrees.2.Placethemeltedbutterinashallow

bowl.Placethebreadcrumbs,Parmesanandsmokedpaprikainanothershallowbowl.3.Removetheouterleavesfromthecaulifloweranddivideitintobite-sizeflorets.Dipeachoneintothemeltedbutterandthenthebreadcrumbmix.Placeonatraylinedwithbakingpaperandbakefor30minutes,turninghalfwaythrough.4.Tomaketheguacamole,mashtheavocadoswiththejuiceofalime,thefinelychoppedcorianderandjalapeños.

Seasontotastewithsalt.Servethecrispycauliflowerinwarmflourtortillaswiththeguacamole.

I ’m such a cauliflower-cheese fan,but I wanted to change things upa bit for casual summer eating, so

have taken all the good elements ofthat traditional dish and wrapped itup in a warm flour tortilla. Add someguacamole for creamy richness andyou have the perfect relaxed sum-mer supper.

This cruciferous vegetable is fullof fibre and B vitamins, providinganti-oxidants and phytonutrients. Ithas been enjoying huge popularityover the past few years as it is paleofriendly, with low carbohydrates. Itis also extremely adaptable, nowbeing used to make everything fromcakes to porridge.

For years one of my favouritedishes was one my sister made me. Itwas a paleo-inspired bowl of good-ness, cauliflower puree with hotsmoked salmon on top, roast cherrytomatoes and basil leaves. Theflavours are perfect together.

I also love a creamy cauliflowersoup made with a little ginger,cumin and coconut milk. It’s creamyand warming, without being heavy,and the whole family loves it. Itworks very well with spice, ginger,turmeric and Asian flavours.

The cauliflower pizza crust thatwas trending a few years ago neverfelt quite right to me. It was adisservice to cauliflower andcertainly to pizza. Cauliflower isoften blitzed in a food processor andused as a rice substitute whenavoiding carbohydrates, but again it

doesn’t feel quite right.Cauliflower should just be

enjoyed for what it is. Instead ofserving cauliflower rice with a curry,I add the florets to the curry. Thetexture is great and it works so wellwith strong flavours.

Whole roast cauliflower makes aspectacular centrepiece for a meal.Strip the leaves from the cauliflow-er, then brush it all over with a pastemade of olive oil, salt and a goodspice mix such as berbere, garammasala or even smoked sweetpaprika, then cover it in foil or placein a large, lidded dish and bake untilcooked; it usually takes about anhour at 180 degrees. Scatter it withfresh herbs once cooked and serve ithot.

Cauliflower cheese is one of myfavourite dishes, pure comfort foodwith just the right about of savouryumami and great textures. It’s theperfect side dish for roast chicken,steak or as a main course with roasttomatoes.

But in warm weather, that blanketof cheese sauce can become toomuch. For this week’s recipe I’vekept the cheese element, as well asthe crisp breadcrumbs. By dippingthe florets of cauliflower in meltedbutter, then the crumb and cheesemix, it takes on all of those cauliflow-er-cheese traits. Roasted, theybecome crisp and delicious. It is theperfect way to make the most ofcauliflower and a lovely vegetarianmain course.

A light, summery twiston cauliflower cheese

Thebestunderweartosmoothlumpsandbumps

Nobodyknows.Youcan’ttell by lookingatme.I’mnot talking to thetrees. Ihaven’t startedpushingmy life around thestreets ina supermarkettrolley, swigging fortifiedsherry fromthebottle

‘‘‘I didn’t know youwere feeling lonely’

THE IRISH TIMESFriday, May 24 , 2019 17

Every year, on the first Monday inMay, the Met Gala is held in NewYork. Dubbed the fashion Oscars,it signals the opening of the Metro-

politan Museum’s annual fashion exhibi-tion.

Thanks to its sometimes controversialtheme, based around the year’s exhibition,the result is a fashion blockbuster show-down like no other, a red carpet parade ofhigh-glam, avant-garde and take-notice en-sembles.

The combination of high fashion andhigh-profile celebrities make the Met Galathe most buzzed about fashion event. A-lis-ters pose on the famed museum staircasein an array of interpretations of the theme,spawning memes and stealing headlines.

Ahead of this year’s Camp: Notes OnFashion themed Met Gala on May 7th, wetake a walk down red carpet memory lane,with some of the most memorable mo-ments.

RihannaIt wouldn’t be a Met Gala without at least ahandful of Rihanna moments. Her most in-famous (and memed about) was her 2015gold Guo Pei Gown complete with 16fttrain.

KimKardashianFor the reality star’s first Met Gala in 2013,pregnant Kim donned a long-sleeve floralGivenchy dress with co-ordinating gloves,which proved fodder for the internet likingthe look to a couch and Mrs Doubtfire.

BeyoncéTaking the trend for naked dresses to theextreme, Beyoncé opted for a sheer dresscomplete with jewel-encrusted Givenchycouture gown for her 2015 Met Gala ap-pearance.

PrincessDianaMaking her first and only appearance,Princess Diana attended the Met threemonths after her divorce to Prince Charlesin 1996. Choosing a slip style, her Diorbias-cut gown might seem modest com-pared with today’s naked dress standardsbut was reported as daring and risque, sig-nalling a liberated moment for the prin-cess.

KatyPerryDescending on the Met for the Heavenly

Bodies theme last year was Katy Perry incustom Versace. Her angel wingsspanned nearly 6ft, and needed theirown open-top vehicle to get the singerto the venue.

SarahJessicaParkerPerfectly in step with the Angloma-nia theme, SJP arrived on the armof Alexander McQueen in aone-shoulder tartan design. Inher 10-year tenure of attendingthe Met, Parker has had many amemorable moment, with her2015 outfit producing theheaddress that launched amillion memes.

MadonnaNever one to shy away froma controversial costumemoment, Madonna defend-ed her sheer Givenchy en-semble from 2016 claiming itwas a political statement meant tofight ageism.

We take a walk down the red carpet memory lane

■Clockwise from right: KimKardashian in her floralGivenchy dress, 2013; Katy Perrywith her 6ft angel wings in 2018;Beyoncé in her Givenchy couturegown for her 2015Met Gala;PrincessDiana and her friend LizTilberis arrive at theMet Gala in1996: Diana’s Dior bias-cut gownwas considered daring and risqueat the time; and Rihanna arrives atthe 2015Met Gala in her gold GuoPei gown. PHOTOGRAPHS: LARRYBUSACCA, JASON KEMPIN, DIMITRIOSKAMBOURIS, JOHN STILLWELL, TIMOTHYA CLARY/GETTY IMAGES

Well, I graduated from TrinityCollege Dublin the other day.The ceremony was held in thePublic Theatre on the universi-

ty’s main quadrangle. The building, wherewe waited in neat alphabetical rows forour certificates to be bestowed upon us, is,I read, an iconic part of Trinity’s culturalheritage.

A single-vaulted chamber with an apse,the theatre contains a recently restored

organ. The main casing of the instrument,we were told as we waited for the man withthe mace to get the party started, dates allthe way back to 1684. Bloody hell, 1684,eh! Goodness me, I mused, sitting thereamong an awful lot of twentysomethings,that makes the organ marginally longer inthe tooth than I am.

Apparently, according to the graciousintroductory speaker who addressed usfrom behind a podium, it was during the

organ’s 15-month restoration programme– and I’m paraphrasing somewhat wildlyhere – that someone had the bright idea ofstripping away the layers of brown paintcovering the original facade pipes,thereby revealing the sumptuous paint-work underneath.

Now I’m no connoisseur of 17th-centuryorgan construction or its restoration, but Imention the recently uncovered pipesbecause I can’t resist the clunking greatmetaphor they provide for how it felt to besitting there, under the decorative apse,having assumed for a large chunk of myyounger life that third-level education wasfor other people, not for me. I somehowbelieved that this historic seat of learningwas not for those of us who – if you canbear me beating the analogy to death –had been covered in the brown paint ofour education system’s disregard.

StoriesoflossLook, I know buckets of people of myvintage with successful lives and careerswho couldn’t wait to get shot of school andnever wanted to go to university, peoplewho would rather eat the proverbial catthan return to the classroom. Equally,sometimes when I tell people about myown journey, which includes finally goingto college in my mid-50s, I hear stories of

loss, often from women, that feel deaden-ingly familiar to me.

I’ve written before about my owneducation story: lack of money, lack ofparental vision, lack of talent, lack of luck,a blanket lack of understanding of coresubjects such as maths and Irish. I stillhaven’t forgotten the pervasive, sickeningfear, which began when I was about five,of waking up on a winter Monday morningknowing that I was going to have to get up,drag myself into my woolly tights and go toschool to be humiliated and shouted atbecause I didn’t understand subtractionor division or what Pól agus Idé weregetting up to on their endless shagginglaethanta saoire.

NotgoodenoughIrish and maths left me snow-blind. Foryears of my childhood I was lost in ablizzard of dashes and crosses across thetextbooks that felt as random and star-tling as a murder of crows alighting on mybedsheets. And that was where it began,the feeling that I wasn’t good enough, thatI was never going to succeed.

It still saddens me when I meet men andwomen who, like me, were told as childrenthat they were weak, stupid, an amadán, adolt; people who, having imbibed thatviolent creed, tell me now that they’d

never have the confidence to return toeducation, as much as they might like to.

In the Public Theatre, I looked aroundat the parents of the young students I wasgraduating with, and wondered how manyof them, if any, still felt inadequate. Howmany had sacrificed their own dreams formortarboard-wearing children nowimbued with their parents’ ambition andsense of loss? Maybe less than I think;maybe no one in that beautiful theatre,graduate or guest, was recalling theordinary assumption of failure.

I sat there that morning in my gown,under the portraits of stern precursors,under the decorative facade of the joyousorgan, among a roomful of fellow stu-dents, many of them younger, some myage, and I didn’t feel elated or over-whelmed, just glad. Glad and ordinary,ordinary and glad that I’d had that solidtime to learn and think and read; glad tohave been held by history and by someabstract, powerful, ongoing belief inpotential.

Earlier, in the loo next to the Buttery,putting on my lippy in front of a longmirror crowded with faces, some young,some not, I realised that if I’d learned onething from my time at college, it’s that it’snever ever too late to silence the child-hood voices of discouragement.

HilaryFannin

Grilledhalloumiwithhoneyandza’atarsaladServes2Ingredients1blockhalloumi1tspoliveoil2tsphoney4tbspthymeleaves3handfulslettuceHalfalemon,juiceofHalfatspsumac2pittabreads,toasted

Method1.Slicethehalloumiinhalfhorizontally.Placeitonatrayand

drizzleitwitholiveoil.Scoreacriss-crosspatternonthetopofeachhalfwithasharpknife.

Placeunderahotgrillforaboutfiveminutesuntilgoldenandbubbling.2.Meanwhiledividethesaladleavesandthymeleavesbetweentwo bowlsanddrizzlewithalittleoliveoilandasqueezeoflemonjuice.

Scatterapinchofsumacovereachbowl.3.Placeapieceofhothalloumiontopanddrizzlewithhoney.Serverightawaywithawarmtoastedpittabread.

Halloumi is a Cypriotsemi-hard cheese that ismade from cow, sheep orgoat milk, or a mixture of

all three. It has a high melting point,making it perfect for frying orgrilling.

As barbecue season approaches,it is good to know that grilledhalloumi makes a really superalternative to a beef burger. It isbrined so it is quite salty and onlyneeds seasoning with herbs. You canfill warm toasted pitta bread withhalloumi and salad for a deliciouslunch or brunch dish.

Once cooked, the cheese meltsand becomes incredibly delicious,but it hardens up again once it cools,so do serve it right away. It hasbecome infamous for its distinctivesqueakiness and rubbery textureonce cold, but don’t let this dissuadeyou from cooking it.

Although it is served in manyMediterranean countries, I’mcooking it a traditional Cypriot way,by scoring the top, grilling it andthen drizzling it with honey. It wouldtypically be scattered with thymeleaves, but I’m taking inspirationfrom the fresh za’atar salads that Itasted in Jordan.

Soft, wild thyme leaves are mixedwith lemon juice and oil and a pinchof sumac. The thyme leaves have avery full-on flavour, so I’m diluting itslightly here by mixing them withlettuce leaves. Don’t use the tight,tough thyme, but rather look for a

softer, wider-leaved version.Oregano or marjoram are perfectalternatives.

As I moved house quite recently,my herbs are still in pots as we tryand decide how to tackle the garden.But they do thrive once planted inthe ground. I love having a hugeselection of herbs in the garden, or atleast an abundance of specific herbs.

Thyme and oregano seem to bethe most useful and grow so well.Once picked you can use them rightaway, or leave them to dry on a wirerack at room temperature for a fewdays, then store in a jar for thewinter months.

A few years back, I saw a tisanebed at the Ballymaloe CookerySchool and have been planning oncreating my own ever since. Simplyfill a large trough or container withearth and plant your favourite plantsfor making herbal tea. Lemon balm,mint, rosemary, sage and lemonverbena all make beautiful tisanesby infusing the leaves in hot water,and they are all so fragrant too.

My children had little interest inherbs till we took them to a gardencentre and let them smell and see theamazing variety available. We camehome with pineapple mint, applemint and their favourite, chocolatemint. They also love fennel, so it hasgiven them great ownership to beable to identify and eat plants in thegarden themselves. I often ask themto get me specific herbs and they’revery happy to set off foraging.

LillyHiggins

IconicMetGalamomentsfromRihannatoDiana

It still saddensmewhen Imeetmenandwomenwho,likeme,were toldaschildren that theywereweak, stupid, anamadán, adolt; peoplewho,havingimbibed that violent creed,tellmenowthat they’dneverhave the confidencetoreturn to education

‘‘

They don’t call it squeakycheese for no reason

Silencing the childhoodvoices of discouragement

THE IRISH TIMESFriday, May 3 , 2019 19